Page 40 of The Heiress
“Then why?”
“They wanted me to have a more normal life, normal school. Normal. That’s it,” I said in a fusion of frustration and sarcasm.
“You didn’t go to a normal school back home?”
“I was at an international prep school, but because my family travel a lot, I’d miss classes and do my work online.”
“That’s kind of normal these days,” Phoenix said.
“Yeah, I know, right?” I said a little excitedly. It was refreshing to know he thought the same as me, that perhaps my actions could be justified.
“So let me get this straight?” Phoenix said, turning to face me, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “You stopped using your phone so your parents can’t track where you are or what you’re doing? And you’ve done that since you started at school?”
“No, not exactly,” I said sheepishly. “I do check it every morning because my mom sends me a good morning video and I always reply. But I just don’t tell them what’s going on at school or send photos because—” I paused, needing to collate my thoughts, because to my own ears I was sounding a little crazy.
But Phoenix finished my sentence for me. “Because you want to punish them for sending you away.”
“Yes!” I said crisply, my smile bold. “Thank you. You said it better than me.”
“That’s because I know what it’s like.”
In that moment, my heart stilled and my smile evaporated, the energy around us changing, his vulnerability caught in his throat as he filled his lungs with air. His fingers tapped soundlessly on the white marble counter, awkward and nervous.
And his words stuttered out of him, full of shame. “It’s the same...I’m the same...with Mom,” he said. “Payback.”
I thought I’d misheard, because from what I’d witnessed, Phoenix and Laura had a great relationship. I thought he must’ve meant to say his father because there had been that issue when he came back from visiting him.
Freaked by his incessant tapping, I reached out to Phoenix’s fingers. My intent was to hold them still, because his nervousness was making me nervous. But it sent a warm rush of tingles up my spine, radiating to every muscle, every bone, every cell. A flood of all those feel-good hormones.
“I wanted her to suffer for the accident,” Phoenix said.
“Your mom?”
He nodded. “Sick, right?”
I shrugged, not understanding. Not understanding how I could be feeling butterflies and sunshine while he was tearing himself to shreds. “Phoenix?” It was all I could utter, a pained whisper of his name, because I got the feeling that whatever he was going to say next was going to devastate him.
But his voice was so soft, that it was me who was devastated.
“My Mom was on her phone. While driving.” He’d tried to sound neutral, unaffected, but the bitterness and the accusation couldn’t be hidden, and the implication of his words sent a shiver of chills through me.
Chills for Laura.
It was in shock that I withdrew my hands from Phoenix’s and sat up straighter on the seat, so much to take in.
“I’m sorry,” I said. For what I wasn’t sure, maybe Phoenix’s pain, maybe Laura’s, maybe just the sad and tragic situation that had left a boy’s dreams broken.
Phoenix turned his body toward me, his anguish evident in his hooded eyes and pressed lips. “I don’t want to blame her, I don’t want to punish her, but I can’t help it,” he said. “And now my Dad wants to sue her on my behalf. I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want Mom to go through that.”
Trying to process this deluge of information left me floundering and speechless—Laura doing the unthinkable, using her phone while driving and causing an accident. No wonder the woman looked so fragile, so delicate, so breakable...And yet, if this was true, how did Phoenix deal with it? How was he able to overcome those emotions of blame when facing his mother on a daily basis?
All of my issues, past, present and any in the future, vanished into nothing.
And honesty was my only approach. “I don’t know what to say,” I said, having never felt more helpless in my life. “Phoenix, I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” My lower lip quivered and my eyes watered, “But if you’re anything like your name, you’ll rise from the ashes.” He frowned, so I prompted, “Greek mythology? The Phoenix?”
Phoenix blinked before his gaze settled on something over my shoulder before his eyes met mine. “Mom’s been through so much,” he said. “You see how thin she is? She’s lost so much weight. She never eats. When she had that pumpkin latte with you, that was like a minor miracle. And today she ate that turkey sandwich...”
“And she had a piece of my apple donut,” I chimed in. Yes, because they were Phoenix’s favorite, I had to try one.
